


Beggars and Choosers

by ardett



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Eventual Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Misunderstandings, Peter is still Spider-Man Tony is still Iron Man, Peter's 17, Porn With Plot, Rape/Non-con Elements, Timeline? I don't know her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:33:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21796573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: Peter ends up on Tony's doorstep, hoping he can convince the playboy to let him stay in return for certain favors. Things get worse before they get better.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Obadiah Stane, Peter Parker/Tony Stark, Quentin Beck/Peter Parker, for just a hot second, in the past - Relationship
Comments: 23
Kudos: 264





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CherryPie0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CherryPie0/gifts).

> Happy Holidays, [Sofia](https://sofia1926.tumblr.com/)! Hope you enjoy your gift!
> 
> Written for the [Starker Secret Santa](https://starkersecretsanta.tumblr.com)!
> 
> taken from the prompt:  
(NSFW) - (underage or not) Tony finds runaway teenager Peter and takes pity on him, offering to help him. He takes the kid home, planning to just let him sleep there for tonight and see what to do with him tomorrow. During the night Peter slips into his bedroom and then his bed, ready to suck Tony's cock or let him fuck him because that's the only way he can thank him/pay him back for his kindness, begging Tony to keep him there. Tony finds it fucked up - at first - but the kid insists and well, Tony can only resist for so long, especially when Peter is so pretty and sweet. (Daddy kink is welcome)
> 
> also available on [tumblr](https://ardett.tumblr.com/post/189841109545/beggars-and-choosers)!

There’s a boy sitting on the steps of Stark Tower when Tony and Happy drive by. Tony catches him out of the corner of his eye, crouched over himself and tucked under the railing. The boy’s arms are bare and so are his knees, exposed skin rubbed raw and red. He looks cold.

“What’s a kid doing on my front porch?” Tony asks Happy.

Happy glances over. He huffs. “Who knows. Probably nothing good. That’s why you installed a private elevator in the parking garage, remember?”

“That was for the paparazzi,” Tony mutters. “Drop me off here.”

“What? Boss, it’s New York City. Teenagers hang out. You shouldn’t encourage--”

“Stop the car, Happy. I’m going to go talk to him. He shouldn’t be out this late, and if he’s a stalker, I’ll send him home. He’s not going to rob me in front of my own building.”

“He might,” Happy says under his breath but he pulls over anyway.

Tony hops out, straightening his suit. He turns back to Happy. “You can park and go home. Take the night off early. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Sure, boss.” Happy nods towards the boy. “Don’t do anything stupid because I’m not coming to save you from a kidnapping if it’s before 10am tomorrow.” He rolls the window up and drives away to park the car.

Tony walks towards the boy. He can see faint shivering as he gets closer but it’s hard to make out any features. The boy is hunched almost entirely in the small gap between the railing and the wall. There are shadows cast over his face.

“Hey, kid.” Tony’s words ring out in the dark air. He’s just close enough to hear the boy’s breath catch.

Wild eyes stare up at him. The boy pries himself out of his hiding spot, long fingers pulling himself up with the railing. He doesn’t stand fully, still half hunched, but Tony gets a better look at him now. He’s taller than he thought. Older too, maybe. Definitely a teenager.

He’s barely wearing anything.

His top is tight, thin enough that Tony can see the curves of his body and the faint peach skin tone underneath. The collar is stretched out but it doesn’t look intentional. It reminds Tony of the time he saw two guys get into a bar fight and he watched one guy grab another by the shirt and drag him forward. This boy has the same irritated red line on his neck from where his shirt dug into his throat. He’s in shorts too, not even long enough to reach his mid-thigh. Goosebumps prickle all over his skin.

He looks like the hookers Tony seen in the seedier parts of the city. From the shadows of his face, Tony can make out the sheen of lipgloss and the dark smudge of mascara. 

“I’m-- I’m sorry, sir. I wasn’t loitering. I need to talk with…” The boy trails off as Tony comes closer. “Tony Stark,” he finishes breathlessly.

“Well, you found me.” Tony forces out a rough laugh. “What can I help you with, kid? What are you doing outside of my tower at one in the morning?”

“I…” The kid looks like he’s steeling himself for something as he bites his lip. His eyes drag up to Tony’s. “I’ve heard about you, you know.” 

He takes a step forward and something about the way he does it makes Tony uneasy. It’s a slow, smooth, almost sensual approach. It brings his face into the light.

He would be beautiful, gentle curls and full lips and soft cheeks, except for the bruise around his eye. It has that terrible look that black eyes do, when the blood has started to pool in the socket under the skin and starts to cause swelling. It’s concealed with makeup but not enough to stop the dark color from bleeding through.

“I know what you’re like,” the boy murmurs. His hand drags away from the railing like a lover’s leaving caress. “_What _ you like.” 

Tony’s captivated as he watches the boy drift closer. As he watches teeth dig into young lips.

Happy’s voice breaks through the night, ruining the moment. “Tony? I know you always say to trust you but you don’t exactly have the best track record.” Happy turns the corner and the boy goes absolutely rigid.

“Easy.” Tony holds up his hands, trying to get the boy to meet his eyes.

“Sorry, kid, but you need to go.” 

“Happy--” Tony hisses but Happy doesn’t hear him.

“We can get you home safe. We can call your parents for--”

The boy bolts.

Tony starts to run after him but Happy grabs his arm. “What are you doing?” Happy says. “You don’t know who this kid is. What are you going to do if you catch him?”

Tony shakes him off. “He obviously needs help. Don’t follow me, you’re going to scare him.” Tony taps his watch, ordering into it, “Let’s go, JARVIS. We gotta catch up to this kid.”

Tony takes off after the boy. He’s already lost him between some alleys but JARVIS directs him through the maze. He catches a glimpse of a white shoe past the edge of a building and he dashes forward.

It’s a dead end.

Tony blinks and glances around. It’s just brick walls, no doors to enter, nothing to hide behind.

“J, where’d he go?”

“Up, sir,” JARVIS’s voice says through his watch speaker.

Tony looks up just in time to see the boy crawl from the fire escape onto the roof. Tony’s about to follow him when he realizes the fire escape ladder isn’t down.

“How the hell did he get up there?” Tony mutters. “J, send me a suit. The fastest one.”

The whole process takes seconds given how close they still are to Stark Tower. As soon as the last metal plate is in place, Tony takes off.

The boy has stalled on the roof, clearly thinking he’s safe above the ground. He jerks back when Tony shoots over the edge. He’s breathing hard, staring at the repulsors in the suit’s gloves. 

“Hey, kid.” Tony touches down on the roof and lets the suit unhinge so he can step out of it. “Me again. Just me this time.” The boy doesn’t move. Tony slowly approaches him, keeping his voice level as he asks, “What set you off? Was it Happy? I promise he’s not as scary as he sounds. A regular old teddy bear, really.” 

The boy’s eyes dart to the edge of the roof. Tony’s heart jolts. “I won’t call your parents,” he blurts out. The boy’s gaze comes back to him and Tony knows he’s right. “Were they the ones who did that to you?” Tony gestures to the bruise. “Mom? No. Dad?” The boy nods. The corners of his eyes wrinkle and Tony recognizes the tell-tale signs of rising tears. “It’s okay. You don’t have to go back there. You can stay with me, okay? Stay with me tonight.”

Suddenly there’s a boy in Tony’s arms, hands clutching the back of his shirt and a face buried in his chest. He can feel the sobs rumbling into his collarbones. “It’s gonna be okay,” Tony promises, rubbing the boy’s back. “What’s your name, buddy?”

“Peter,” the kid whispers.

“Peter,” Tony repeats. “Alright, baby. Let me take you home.”

Peter follows Tony’s lead, letting go of his hand just long enough for Tony to climb into the suit. Tony lifts him into a bridal carry. Peter’s hands wrap loosely around his neck. Tony expects him to panic when they rise up but Peter stays remarkably calm, gazing at the receding ground with a far-away look.

They land on the penthouse balcony. Peter slips from his arms and for a second, Tony doesn’t want to let him go, wants to keep him held safe and tight against his chest. Tony sheds his suit and ushers Peter inside.

The kid is tensing up again. There’s a sharp line across his shoulder and Tony can see his hands twitching. 

“Come on, let me show you to the bedroom,” Tony says. Peter gives sharp nod. His nails dig into his palms. He follows Tony with halting steps.

“I’m sorry I cried,” he says as they walk. “It won’t happen again.” 

Tony pauses. He turns to face Peter. “You don’t have to apologize for crying.”

“Oh, okay.” Peter blinks at him. Tony starts walking again when Peter pipes up behind him, “Do you like that?”

Tony whips around to gape at him. “Excuse me? Do I like… what? Seeing boys cry?”

“Yes? No. Maybe? I was just asking. Sir.” Peter stares up at him. There’s a nervous jumping in his leg.

“No, I don’t like seeing boys cry,” Tony answers firmly. “And don’t call me sir.”

“Okay. I won’t.” 

And Tony can just tell by the way Peter says it that he’s following an order. It makes him feel a little sick.

“Alright!” Tony announces just a bit too loudly as he pulls open the door. “Here’s the guest bedroom. Make yourself at home. Try to get some sleep. If you need anything, just ask JARVIS. J?”

“Yes, sir?”

Peter flinches at the noise.

“He’s an AI. He doesn’t live in the ceiling. He’s a computer. He can help you if you need anything.”

“O-okay.” Peter’s eyes are starting to look spacey. Glassy. Checked out. “He can see me?”

“Yeah, if you need him to.”

“He’s going to watch us?”

“What?”

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It… It doesn’t matter.” 

Tony breaks the silence. “Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

Peter’s head jerks up. “You’re leaving?”

“Yes?” 

Tony’s starting to get an inkling of what the kid thinks this is. How he thinks Tony stole him away into this bedroom to have his way with him. He’s trying to be obedient. He’s trying to be a good boy. He thinks Tony likes to see underage boys cry. He thinks JARVIS is going to record them having sex so Tony can watch it back later. Maybe bringing him home wasn’t Tony’s best idea, especially given how sweet and soft the boy looks.

Tony pinches at the bridge of his nose and tries to dispel the thoughts of taking Peter apart on the guest bed, of showing Peter how a boy like him should really be treated. “Look, kid, just try to get some shut eye tonight, okay? We’ll reconvene in the morning. Remember, JARVIS is here to help you and if you need me, I’m just down the hall. Good night.”

Tony leaves the room without looking back.

Tony wakes up when he hears the sheets rustle. He feels groggy as he tries to blink himself awake. The sun’s still not up.

He sees the vague outline of a person, delicate features just catching the blue light of his arc reactor. He hears a sniffle. Then he feels a hand slip into his pants. Fingers play over his underwear and Tony’s eyes fully snap open.

“What the fuck--” He feels the person flinch against his skin. “JARVIS, lights!”

Light exposes every part of the scene and Tony remembers now: Peter, bruises, his sultry walk, Peter’s claim that he knew exactly what Tony wanted.

“Kid-- No, I can’t call you that. Kiddo? Oh, that’s worse. Peter, look, Peter…” Tony sighs. He drags a hand down his face. “I don’t really have the emotional bandwidth to have the consent talk with you right now but I didn’t ask for you to come on to me, so you really can’t be crawling into my bed at whatever godforsaken hour--”

He finally looks up and the words stick in his throat.

Peter’s face is tear-stained. The red blotchy-ness from his tears mixes with his black eye in a horrible imitation of art. Tears are still slipping down his cheeks.

“Fuck, baby, why-- why are you crying?”

Even with the tears, Tony can see the resolve in Peter’s expression. The determination.

“You wouldn't have to see me crying if you hadn’t turned on the lights,” Peter intones. 

Tony’s heart twists. “That’s not why I asked.”

“Mr. Stark--” Tony’s cock jumps. He can tell Peter felt it because the boy smiles something vicious and repeats, lower this time, “Mr. Stark, you don’t have to worry about me. Let me do this for you. Let me be good for you.”

“I’m sure you could be. I’m sure you’d be perfect, sweetheart, I know you would be, but that’s not the point. Okay? I can see you crying, I know you don’t really want to do this.” Tony pulls Peter’s hand out of his pants. He takes a deep breath, trying to get himself back under control. He doesn’t notice Peter has switched his grip, guiding Tony’s hand to slip under the band of his own underwear and fuck--

Tony shudders as he feels the furl of Peter’s hole, slick and soft and too ready to be fucked.

“I’m ready, Mr. Stark. You don’t have to prep me. You could just take me right now--”

“No, no, kid--” Tony snatches his hand back in an act of pure will. “I don’t want to fuck you. As much as I’d love to, and trust me, I’d really love to, it’s not-- it’s just not appropriate. How old even are you?”

“Stop acting like you don’t want this! I know you want this!” Peter’s voice rises and he doesn’t sound like a kid anymore, he sounds like someone who’s heard this line before and is regurgitating it now.

“You shouldn’t say stuff like that, buddy. Not exactly pillow talk. I’ve just said multiple times we’re not going to have sex, if you can’t listen to me, then we’re going to have problems.”

That finally makes Peter’s pause. His lower lip starts to quiver.

It feels like whiplash as Peter’s voice switches to a plea, “But that’s why you brought me here. If you let me stay, you can have me whenever you want. However you want me. I can suck you off. You can fuck me. I-- I can learn whatever you want, I’ll never complain, I can be--”

Tony holds up a hand and Peter immediately silences himself. “Stop. Stop it. Don’t talk to me like that.”

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry, sir--” Peter’s babbling now, whatever he thinks Tony wants to hear.

Tony can’t help but ask, “What do you think I want from you?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I’m sorry but--” Peter hides his face in his hands. His tears have blossomed into full fledged sobs. “I don’t have anything else I can give you. I don’t have money, I don’t have fancy things, I don’t have connections, I just have me. And-- And I read that you were a playboy and I thought that maybe you would let me stay if I let you have… if I…” Peter inhales and his breathe trembles. “...if I let you have me.

“Please,” Peter begs. “I know I’ve been bad. I keep crying and I know you don’t like seeing boys cry but I don’t have anywhere else I can go. I-- I can’t go home, please. He’ll-- He’ll hurt me again and there’s always so many men, and I-- I just-- I can take it from one person but I can’t-- Just you, I’d rather it be just you than him. Please, I’m sorry, please don’t make me leave--”

Tony shushes him. Peter cuts himself off but Tony can still hear his quivering exhales. He keeps letting out small gasps like he’s holding his breath, trying to be quiet for Tony.

“I’m sorry, baby. I’m sorry that happened to you,” Tony murmurs. He holds his arms out to Peter. “Come here.” Peter looks up and then falls into his embrace. It feels natural. It feels like he belongs there.

“Of course you can stay,” Tony says. “You can stay as long as you need to. You never have to do that again. Not for me and not for anyone else.”

“Thank you, thank you,” Peter rambles. Tony lets Peter tire himself out before he pulls the sheets over them. Peter doesn’t protest and soon, he’s dozing off. It doesn’t take long for Tony to follow after him.

When Tony wakes up, Peter’s not there. Tony bolts upright, looking for the boy, but he’s not anywhere in sight.

That’s it, Tony thinks. Peter fled in the night, too terrified of Tony and what he might do to him, and now he’s on the streets somewhere or back in that awful home or--

Then he smells the scent of breakfast. Eggs. Pancakes. Bacon.

Tony wanders into the kitchen and there Peter is, working over the stovetop. There’s already plates of breakfast food. Too much, really, even for both of them to finish.

Peter looks up when Tony enters, knuckles white with his grip on the spatula. “Good morning, Mr. Stark.”

“You didn’t have to do this.” Tony gestures to the food.

Peter nods. He drops his gaze to the floor. “Did you mean it?” he mutters.

"Of course I did," Tony answers, a bit indignantly. He pops a piece of bacon into his mouth. "You can stay forever if you keep making me breakfast like this."

He sees Peter's eyes light up and he corrects himself, "Obviously you can stay if you don't cook too. In fact, you shouldn't be cooking all the time. Don't you have school or something?"

"Yeah…" Peter trails off and Tony raises an eyebrow at him. "It's just not as important as, you know, other things."

"What, like making breakfast?"

"Going to school isn't going to keep me off the street," Peter scowls.

"It literally is but we can agree to disagree for now." 

Peter opens his mouth to respond but changes his mind. He plates food for both of them and brings them to the table instead of talking. 

"So where do you go?" Tony prompts. 

"Midtown," Peter mumbles into his fork.

"Smart guy, huh?"

"I guess." Peter looks up. "Is that… Is that bad? Do you mean like-- I'm not trying to get smart with you, Mr. Stark. I didn't mean to."

“Relax. It’s good to be smart. Maybe you can help me in the lab sometime.”

“If you want me to, Mr. Stark.”

“Alright, I get it. Anything I want, right? We’ll work on that.” Tony claps his hands over Peter’s protests. “It’s a Monday. Time for you to get to school. Happy can drive you and I’ll have some supplies shipped today. Backpack, folders, pens, whatever else you need, okay? Let’s make a list right now. And clothes, we’ll get some clothes for you too.”

“No, you really don’t have to--”

Tony interrupts him, “You can’t stay if you don’t go to school. That’s my condition. Now what do you need?”

Tony feels bad leveraging a place for Peter to stay but he knows the kid needs to go to class. It’s the first step towards being independent and maybe it’ll stop him from trying to become a sex worker in his off time. He can hardly stay cooped up in Stark Tower for the rest of his life.

It takes a little more convincing but eventually Peter manages to come up with a list of everything he might need. Tony adds a couple of items, including a phone and a credit card. 

After he pushes Peter out the door, he browses online and stumbles across a set of lacy underwear done in colors of deep red with gold thread. His mind wanders to Peter, not crying and desperate like he was last night, but sprawled across silk sheets, writhing and moaning as Tony treats him right. He thinks of Peter leaking through that delicate scarlet lace, dressed only in Tony’s colors.

Then he thinks of Peter, young and easily manipulated and trying to exchange his body for a safe place to sleep.

He closes the tab.

Tony does some research.

Peter Parker, age 17. Parents died. Aunt and Uncle died. Currently living in Queens with his foster parent, Quentin Beck.

Tony breaks into the school records.

Perfect A student. Frequently late to class. Multiple trips to the nurse’s office for unexplained injuries. Various teachers voiced concerns but none were acted on.

Tony makes a promise to himself then. He’s going to take care of Peter. He’s not going to let him slip through the cracks again.

The two of them settle into a routine. 

Peter makes breakfast in the morning. He goes to school. He comes home and does homework. The two of them eat dinner together. Sometimes Tony can convince him to watch a movie. Peter will go to bed.

(JARVIS told Tony that Peter spent the first couple of nights pacing outside of Tony’s door but he’s finally started spending the whole night in his own room.)

On weekends, they get to spend time together in the lab. It’s slowly becoming Tony’s highpoint of the week. He gets time away from SI work to tinker with small projects, and Peter gets to experiment with millions of dollars worth of lab equipment. Peter is so quietly intelligent. It’s one of Tony’s favorite things about him, the way he watches Tony and then points out an adjustment or improvement. He’s smart. He’s smart and sweet, which is more than most people Tony’s met.

Peter will still make his corrections in a whisper of a voice and then glance at Tony to make sure he hasn’t overstepped, but they’re working on that. Tony’s gotten Peter’s snark to come out only a couple times but they’ve been more than worth it.

There’s no doubt there’s attraction there. Tony can’t quite put it from his mind after their very first interaction. He wants to see Peter like that again, willingly this time. It’s too soon though. Maybe after a few more months, as Peter grows more comfortable. Until then, Tony pushes all the feelings down. He’s a patient man. He can wait.

Two weeks after Peter Parker crashes into Tony’s life, the boy starts disappearing at night. Tony doesn’t know what to make of it. Peter hasn’t said anything about being unhappy. He hasn’t mentioned any reason why he would have to leave. He’s asked Tony before about staying after school or going over to a friend’s to study, but he’s been absolutely silent about this.

The only reason Tony knows at all is because JARVIS told him Peter had been hurt. That Peter was sitting in his bathroom with a bloody tissue stuck in his nose. That apparently Peter came home with it at 4am.

Tony had knocked and asked if Peter was alright, and Peter called back that he was fine and heading to bed, but he didn’t open the door. Tony didn’t want to invade Peter’s privacy, not when they’re just beginning to get more comfortable around each other. So he left.

He asks JARVIS to start keeping tabs on Peter’s late nights. It keeps him up. He’ll worry when Peter leaves, he’ll worry until Peter gets home and he can’t sleep at night anymore. Not when Peter’s being hurt again.

Tony tries to leave the door open for Peter to bring it up in conversation but Peter never does. He tries to ask Peter about it but he’s shut down. He paces his bedroom waiting for Peter to come home. He worries. He doesn’t sleep.

It’s stopped Tony from going out as Iron Man. Yes, if the threat is big enough, he’ll bring out a suit, but for the first time he’s concerned about his control in the suit. The lack of sleep has been getting to him. He’s gone on a work binge before, stayed up for a couple days, but those were adrenaline, passion-filled flurries of activity. He burned bright and he burned out quickly.

This is much worse. It’s an unending cycle of him dozing off and then startling awake when his mind drifts to Peter. Peter, alone in the dark. Peter, huddled under the railing of the stairs. Peter, crawling into his bed the first night and trying to whore himself out. Peter, coming home bruised and bloody. Peter, wandering the streets who knows where in New York City.

The only good part is that there’s some other hero on the scene, someone picking up Iron Man’s slack. It doesn’t exactly give Tony peace of mind seeing that some guy in a spider onesie is trying to replace him, but Spider-Man hasn’t hurt anyone yet, so he’s in the good books so far.

Not everything adds up though. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation but when Tony greets Peter in the morning, he never sees any of the injuries JARVIS told him Peter came home with. Peter looks the same as ever, fluffy curls and rosy cheeks. Actually that’s not true, Peter doesn’t look the same.

Peter looks happier.

He looks light and healthy and fulfilled and why can Tony never see his bruises in the morning? Tony feels like he’s losing his mind. He still can’t sleep.

After another week of nightly disappearances, Tony finally convinces Peter to stay in to watch a movie. Tony is surprised to find Peter snuggling into his side. He puts an arm around him and knowing Peter is safe in his embrace, he starts to doze.

He wakes up to Peter leaving. It’s like a shock to his system. The first real sleep he’s had in almost a week and he’s jerked out of it. It leaves his head spinning, his vision swimming, but it doesn’t stop him from watching Peter sneak past.

“Peter,” he croaks. “Peter, where are you going?”

Peter tenses. He doesn’t turn around.

“It’s fine, Mr. Stark. Go back to sleep.”

“Where are you going? Please, just tell me,” Tony pleads. “I can’t take it. You leave for hours in the middle of the night and you’re coming back hurt.”

“You don’t have worry. I know what I’m doing. I come back, don’t I?” Peter’s voice sounds off. It sounds impersonal, detached.

“I can’t sleep when you’re gone,” Tony confesses. Peter flinches. Then he starts to walk away. “Wait, Peter--”

Tony tries to rise to his feet but he’s still so exhausted. He trips over himself, almost goring himself on the coffee table, and suddenly Peter’s there, supporting Tony and lowering him back to the couch. He’s strong, Tony thinks dimly.

Tony grabs Peter’s hand. “I just need to know you’re safe. Where are you going? Who’s hurting you?”

“I can’t tell you.” Peter tries pulls away. Tony doesn’t let him.

“You have to, please, I can help you--”

Peter swallows. Tony can see the lump travel down his throat. Peter whispers, “I can’t tell you. If you make me tell you, I’ll leave. You just… you can’t know. I’m sorry. I want to stay but I can’t-- I can’t stay if you’re going to make me--”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat. There’s a painful twisting in his chest.

“Okay, okay, you don’t have to tell me!” Tony scrambles. “Don’t leave-- I mean-- Come back, please, just come back home. Let me-- Can I-- Please?” Tony tries to collect himself, finally stringing a sentence together. “Just let me help fix you up when you come home. You don’t have to tell me what happened. Just let me make sure you’re okay.”

Peter pauses. Then he squeezes Tony’s hand, just once, gently. “Okay. I can do that.” Peter leans in and presses a kiss to Tony’s cheek. “Thank you, Tony.”

Tony watches him go. As the elevator doors close behind him, Tony brushes his fingers over his cheek. He imagines it still feels warm.


	2. Chapter 2

Peter’s life is perfect. He has somewhere safe to sleep. There’s food. He gets to be Spider-Man. He gets to spend his free time with Tony Stark,  _ the  _ Tony Stark. And instead of warming Tony’s bed, Tony cradles Peter’s bruises, tapes his cuts closed, holds him when he’s trying to breathe. There’s nothing Peter would change.

Then he has to go and break the plate.

Tony isn’t home yet and Peter is trying to prepare dinner for them. Tony said he doesn’t have to, but Peter’s enjoys it, more or less. At least there’s food in the tower to prepare.

He’s reaching for a plate when he hears voices. He can only just make out the words with his enhanced senses. It sounds like it could be coming from a floor or two away. The back of his neck prickles.

“...supposed to die in Afghanistan!” he hears. His spidey sense spikes a moment before a hand slams into a table.

Peter flinches and hears the sound of ceramic shattering. He blinks at the cabinet, his empty hand, then down to the floor. He can see tiny nicks on his ankle where shards cut into his skin.

He dropped the plate. No, he broke the plate. He broke Tony’s plate. Oh god.

He has sticky fingers, how on earth did he drop the plate? He can’t stay here if he’s going to be trouble. Tony won’t let him stay here if he’s more trouble than he’s worth. He’s already pushing it by leaving at all hours of the night. Tony was ready to kick him out for that, and now Peter’s breaking things in his house. He’ll really make Peter leave. He might even send Peter back to Quentin. All because Peter couldn’t just control himself for one single second.

Maybe he can fix this. Maybe he can glue it back together.

Peter kneels down and starts collecting the pieces. Something twinges in his knee. His hands hurt. He ignores it.

He won’t be able to fix it. He can tell just by looking at the pieces but he tries to put them back together anyway.

They’re getting dirty. Peter keeps smudging something on them. The white porcelain is turning pinkish red. He can’t even keep them clean, he can’t, he can’t--

Peter tries to breathe. He can’t. Why does he always ruin everything?

He hunches over his knees, gasping.

Eventually, he becomes aware of JARVIS counting in the background, trying to coach Peter to take measured breaths. Peter fumbles in half a lung of air. “Don’t tell Tony,” he chokes out. “Please… JARVIS, please don’t tell him.”

“I won’t, Peter,” comes JARVIS’s mechanical voice. “Please try to breathe.”

Peter manages a couple more inhales before he asks, “What should I do with the plate? I can’t… I can’t fix it.”

“It would be best if you left it where it is. Sir will not be angry. The tower is well stocked with kitchen ware. Please tend to your injuries.”

“No,” Peter mutters. “I need to… I need… He can’t see it.” Peter sways to his feet. Something stabs into his heel. He gathers the shards into his hands and drops them into the trash.

He has to do something else to make it up to Tony. To distract him. He’ll just… He’ll do what he has to do. What he came here intending to do.

Peter walks to Tony’s bedroom. He strips off his clothes and sits on the bed. This is what he came here to do. This is what he knows. This is how Quentin let him stay for so long and this time, it’ll just be Tony. Tony will probably be gentle. Maybe he’ll say something nice to Peter while he fucks him. Maybe he’ll tell Peter he was a good boy. Maybe he’ll forget about the broken plate and he won’t make Peter earn the money to buy a new one from strangers.

Peter waits. And waits. And waits.

He hears Tony’s footsteps enter the elevator from the lobby. He listens to the elevator rise and open at the penthouse.

“Peter?” 

There’s shuffling, the flick of a light switch turning on. Tony’s in the kitchen now. Peter can hear him on the tiles. Distantly, he remembers he left dinner half prepped on the counter. 

“Peter? Are you here?” Tony’s voice sounds a little more panicked now. His footsteps pick up. Doors open and close. “Peter!”

The bedroom door is flung open. Their eyes meet. Tony looks down.

“Jesus, fuck, why are you--” Tony whips around, back to Peter, but he doesn’t leave. “Why are you on my bed without any clothes? We talked about this, remember? You don’t have to do this.”

Peter doesn’t say anything. He can’t. The words are gummed up in his throat. Tony doesn’t understand yet. He doesn’t understand that Peter is a nuisance, a burden, that Peter has to make it up to him.

“Peter? You still there?” Tony waits a couple more seconds before beginning to turn. “Okay. Okay. I’m going to help you get dressed. And that’s it.”

Tony’s hands are half covering his eyes, as if he’s trying to look without really looking. He grabs Peter’s shirt. His eyes land on the bedspread.

Tony pauses.

“Where is all this blood from?”

Peter’s palms ache. His knees hurt. He heals fast but not fast enough. There’s still scars on him, some slowly closing cuts.

“I’ll clean it,” Peter croaks. Tony’s gaze snaps to him.

“You must be freezing. You’re shivering.” Tony tugs the shirt over Peter’s head, then his pants. Peter lets him. He feels Tony brush over the scabs on his knees but Tony doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry--” Peter starts.

Tony speaks over him. “It doesn’t matter.” Peter’s blood runs cold.

“Please--” Peter begs.

“I don’t care what happened, Peter. It doesn’t matter. Whatever it is, we can fix it. I just want you to be safe. And I know maybe you don’t get that right now but…” Tony sighs and Peter feels it in his bones. “Let’s just sleep on it, okay? We can talk in the morning. Here.” Tony tugs off the top layer of dirty sheets. He gestures and Peter slips under the covers. He crawls in besides him.

Peter doesn’t know what to do now. Does Tony still want him to… to…

But then Tony’s arms come around Peter’s waist, pulling him close enough to feel his warmth but nothing else. “Just sleep,” he mutters.

Eventually, Peter’s shakes subside and he drifts off.

When Peter wakes up, his wounds are healed. Tony isn’t there.

From down the hall, he hears Tony mutter, “Play the tape again, J.” The volume is low, low enough that Peter wouldn’t be able to hear it without his enhanced senses, but there’s no doubt Tony is watching Peter’s failure from last night. His own ragged breaths and desperate pleas to JARVIS ring in Peter’s ears.

“You promised you wouldn’t tell him,” Peter whispers.

“I didn’t tell him, as per your request. He asked to watch the video from last night. I cannot refuse a direct request,” JARVIS answers.

Peter shakes his head. Instead of responding, he asks, “Is he mad?”

“I think it would be best if you ask him yourself.”

On cue, Tony walks into the bedroom. “Oh, Peter. You’re up.”

“I’m really sorry,” Peter blurts out. “I didn’t mean to break your plate.”

“It’s fine. Really.” Tony gently takes one of Peter’s hands. Peter tenses. Tony raises an eyebrow as he scans Peter’s palm. “It looks like you’re already healed up. I can barely even see the scars.” He starts to lean in closer. Peter pulls his hand away, tucking it under his leg.

“I heal fast.”

“Huh.” Tony considers him for a moment but doesn’t press the issue. He sits down next to Peter. “There’s actually something else I want to talk to you about. There’s not an easy way to put this but I’m… I’m worried about you. I know what happened yesterday and I think that if I was there, maybe I could have stopped you from spiraling. Of course, I can’t always be here so I’m asking a friend to help out. He’s a family friend, I’ve known him for years. He’d just be here to keep an eye on you if you need anything. You probably won’t even notice he’s here. But if something goes wrong, at least I know you’re not alone.”

“Mr. Stark, you really don’t have to. I’m seventeen, I can take care of myself.”

“I know that. But you really scared me yesterday. You lost a lot of blood. What if something worse happens? What if I can’t make it home and you need help? Please, for my peace of mind. If it doesn’t work, we can figure something else out but at least give this a shot. For me.”

Peter feels cornered. Having someone watching him will make it harder for him to be Spider-Man. But then again, Tony already said he was okay with Peter leaving at night. Logically, he knows Tony thinks this is the best way to keep him safe. But it feels like a punishment.

Peter leans his head against Tony’s shoulder to ground himself. He can feel Tony’s breaths pushing at his ribcage. “Alright. I’ll try it,” Peter says. The back of his neck tingles but he only grits his teeth and ignores it.

Tony introduces Peter to Obadiah Stane the next day.

The first couple of days, it’s easy to ignore the new presence in the tower. Peter skirts around Stane, giving him a wide berth. He doesn’t want to be rude. He doesn’t want word to get back to Tony that he’s disrespecting his family friend. Something about Stane makes Peter feel uneasy though.

He sees Stane the most when he comes back from school, in that in between time when Peter’s home and Tony’s still at meetings. Peter will make himself a snack and Stane will come to sit and talk with him.

He asks a lot of questions about where Peter came from and his relationship with Tony and what’s happening in Peter’s life. Peter tries his best to open up, maybe even more than he has with Tony. He tells himself it’s about building good relations but it’s practice for him too, practice for when he tells Tony more about his past. 

Stane tells Peter to call him Uncle Obie. After all, he’s living with Tony so they’re practically family now aren’t they and Tony always calls him Obie so why shouldn’t Peter?

Peter tries it one time, when he needs to find something in the kitchen. He asks, “Uncle Obie, do you know where the frying pans are?” The words feel awkward in his mouth. Wrong.

He hasn’t called anyone dad in years. He never called Quentin anything but Mr. Beck. The habit is ingrained into him now, respect and deference for the person in charge of him. Sometimes he feels himself almost slip up, start to enunciate a hard “d” sound before correcting to “Mr. Stark.” 

(He lets himself think about it at night, only at night, what it would be like to be held and loved and to let himself call Tony his daddy. He mouths it into his pillow where JARVIS can’t read his lips and pushes down the heat that rises in his belly.)

This isn’t the same though.

His words make Stane grin. Peter can’t meet his eyes. He looks at the floor instead. Something like shame curdles inside him.

Stane walks up to him. “Good boy. Thank you for asking me.” Peter goes stiff with shock when Stane’s hand comes around his waist and he presses a kiss against Peter’s cheek. “I’ll show you where it is.”

When Peter cooks dinner that night, Stane’s hand stays at his lower back.

Peter can see Stane’s disappointment every time he calls him Mr. Stane after that. He tries to cajole Peter a couple more times but Peter just shakes his head and says, “I don’t want to be rude, Mr. Stane.”

The only thing that makes him pause is when Stane suggests, “You know, I think Tony would prefer if you called Uncle Obie. Don’t you think it would make him happy to see how well we’re getting along? Don’t you want Tony to know how much you want to be a part of this family?”

Peter tries to ignore it but his thoughts start to spiral. Of course he wants to be a part of Tony’s family. What if Tony thinks he’s ungrateful? What if Tony thinks he doesn’t want to be here anymore? What if this is the next step towards Peter being able to call Tony his… his…

Peter dwells on it for another week. Then he gives in.

The next time Peter sees Stane, he apologizes. “U-Uncle Obie? I wanted to say I’m sorry f-for not calling you my uncle. I want to be here. Please don’t tell Mr. Stark I was rude, I really wasn’t trying to be.”

“Of course I won’t, sweetheart. What happens here stays between us, okay? Why don’t you sit with me and we can spend some time together?”

And Peter wants to say no but he can’t. So he says yes.

Stane puts something on the TV but Peter has a hard time paying attention to it. There’s a hand resting on the inside of his thigh. Stane makes him talk about why he came to Tony, he asks if Peter has been a good boy since he came here. When Peter tries not to answer, Stane pinches the inside of his leg.

Peter knows he should be strong. He’s taken on more than a single old man before. The bruises he feels forming might not even be there tomorrow. But this is someone Tony trusts. Stane must want to know for a reason. And Tony will be able to check if Peter’s being honest. Tony will know if he lies.

“I haven’t been good,” Peter confesses. He winces as Stane presses into the sore part of his thigh. “I… I know I’m not what Tony wants. He told me he doesn’t want me but… but he’s letting me stay and I’m so thankful for that. I am! I tried to repay him. I told him he could… I mean, he used to be a playboy so I thought he would want me like that. And then I could stay here and be his.”

He glances up at Stane, seeing if he’s said enough yet.

“Makes perfect sense to me,” Stane says. “Of course Tony expects something in return for you living here.”

Peter’s breath catches in his throat. Tony said he doesn’t need Peter to do anything for him but of course Stane is right. How stupid could he be? Of course Tony doesn’t want Peter leeching off him with no reward.

“I’ve tried everything though!” Peter’s voice rises in panic. Stane pinches him again and he quiets down. “I cook for him. I try to keep everything clean. I’ve been going to school everyday and my grades are getting better.”

Stane shakes his head. “But not good enough.”

“I… I missed a lot of time in the beginning of the year. There’s not much more I can--”

Stane’s voice cuts into his. “Don’t make excuses.”

“Sorry,” Peter immediately apologizes. He can feel the tears building. This is what Tony’s been thinking all along about him and was just too polite to say. Surely Stane has heard this directly from Tony himself when he was asked to watch Peter. “I’ll be better. I will.”

“I don’t know, Peter,” Stane frowns. “Is that the worst thing you’ve done?”

That’s what makes Peter break. Tears start dripping down his face. His whole body feels hot and trembly.

Stane knows because Tony told him. It doesn’t matter what Tony said before. What matters is that Tony remembers and he told Stane, that’s how bad Peter was.

Peter’s voice comes out choked with sobs. “No, I b-broke Tony’s plate. I s-shattered it and-- and that’s why you have to watch me. Because I’m-- because--”

“Because of what, Peter?”

“Because I’m bad. Because I-- I’m too much trouble.”

Peter hunches over himself, gasping. He shudders as Stane brushes a hand over his head. He can’t catch his breath.

“I’ll talk to him,” Stane consoles. “I’m sure I can convince him of some way to keep you. Why don’t you go to your room? I’ll tell Tony you weren’t feeling well.”

Peter nods and gets to his feet shakily. He faces Stane just before he leaves the room to plea, “Please… please tell him I’ll do anything to stay. Anything he wants.”

“I know,” Stane answers.

Peter walks to his room and collapses into his bed. Distantly, he hears Tony come back. Whatever conversation they have, he can’t make out. They must have gone into one of the tower’s soundproof rooms. He thinks about what they might be talking about. About what they’re going to decide to do with him.

He doesn’t sleep.

It’s the weekend. Peter knows Tony has work to do today and he waits until he hears him leave before coming out of his bedroom. He doesn’t think Tony wants to see him right now. Hopefully he doesn’t miss the breakfast Peter normally cooks up.

Peter didn’t even make it out for patrol last night. Everything that had been going so well feels like it’s falling apart.

When he’s absolutely sure Tony won’t come running back in for something he forgot, he sneaks out of his room. He goes to the kitchen, planning on making himself breakfast. Then he sees Stane waiting on the couch.

He wasn’t feeling very hungry anyway. Besides, he doesn’t know if he’s earned it yet. Not when he’s already acting like a freeloader.

“U-Uncle Obie?” Peter walks around the couch to stand in front of Stane. He wrings his hands as he asks, “Did you talk to Mr. Stark last night? What did he say?”

“We talked for a long time, Peter. He has a lot of concerns about you, I hope you know that.” 

Peter’s heart sinks. He knew it. Fuck. Where is he going to go?

Stane keeps talking, “But we came to an agreement.” Peter’s eyes widen. He opens his mouth to say something but Stane holds up a hand and his mouth clicks shut. “You were right, he doesn’t want you. You’re not desirable to him. But you need some way to pay off your debt, don’t you? So I convinced him that in return for you staying here, I could use your services. And as a favor to a family friend, he said yes.”

“W-What?”

The words take a second to sink in. Tony doesn’t want him. Whatever attraction he feels towards Tony is one-sided, he knew that already. But this feels worse than a simple rejection. It feels like a betrayal.

It’s all clicking into place. Quentin got tired of him too. That’s why he started whoring Peter out to his friends because whether Quentin wanted him or not, Peter had a responsibility to pay for his room and board, to pay back all the money that went into raising him. Now Tony’s decided that’s the best course of action as well.

Maybe no one will ever really want him.

It makes Peter’s skin crawl. He doesn’t feel anything towards Stane, but this is what Tony wants. At least this time it will just be one man.

“I hope you appreciate the sacrifice I’m making you. I put myself in an awkward position with a good friend of mine and Tony gets nothing out of this.” Peter nods but Stane isn’t satisfied. “Say thank you,” he demands.

“Thank you,” Peter stammers.

“Thank you who?”

“Thank you, Uncle Obie.”

“Good boy.” Stane’s rises to his feet. “Come here,” he commands. Peter steps closer. Stane’s hand traces up the side of his neck before tangling in Peter’s hair. His grip tightens in the curls as he drags Peter forward into a kiss.

Peter doesn’t fight it. He opens his mouth, lets Stane lick inside. He tastes like vodka and cigarette smoke. It reminds Peter of home, not of his room in the Tower, but of his real home. The one he ran from.

It’s like he never left.

No, he tells himself while Stane brings him to one of the guest bedrooms. He’s allowed to go to school now, to see his friends and learn. This is better.

No, he tells himself when Stane makes him strip off his clothes one by one. There’s always food to eat and he’s never blamed for eating more than he should. This is better.

No, he tells himself while he sucks Stane’s cock, choking when the man thrusts. He has somewhere safe to spend the nights. This is better.

No, he tells himself when Stane pushes his head down and shoves into him without any protection. He gets to work with Tony Stark, Iron Man himself. This is better.

No, he tells himself when Stane leaves Peter to clean himself up. This is a life that lets him be Spider-Man. This is better.

This has to be better.

Peter tells himself that for two weeks. Two weeks daily fucks and hands all over his body and constantly feeling sore. Stane has figured out Peter heals fast, fast enough that any bruises or bitemarks he makes are gone by the morning. 

He likes to tie Peter up and threaten to leave him helpless for Tony to find. Even though Peter knows that Tony is already aware of what’s going on, he can’t bare the thought. The humiliation. Stane has told him how disgusted Tony would be. Of course Tony would help free Peter when he found him, but Tony would never want to know the sordid details of what they did when he wasn’t there. That was why they had this arrangement in the first place, so Peter wouldn’t have to burden Tony.

Peter doesn’t think he could bare to see the look on Tony’s face.

Peter can barely keep up with his usual patrols. He always exhausted. His grades start to drop again. He hasn’t made any meals for Tony since he started servicing Stane, but he figures it doesn’t matter because this is how Tony wants him to pay off his debt anyway.

That’s why he’s shocked when Tony sits him down with some takeout for dinner and says, “I’m glad you’re feeling more comfortable here. Finally feel like you’re settling in?”

Peter’s head jerks up. Tony doesn’t look like he’s taunting him but how could his words be anything but that? Peter doesn’t have the luxury of questioning it.

“I guess,” Peter mananges. His hand tightens on his fork.

“I noticed you’re not cooking anymore. Which isn’t an accusation, just an observation,” Tony continues. “I wanted to talk to you about your grades though, Pete. You were doing so well. I just want to make sure you still feel like you have everything you need to succeed.”

Peter presses down the anger he feels rising. How much does he have to do to please Tony? What will be enough?

“I’ll try to be better, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nods and says, “You know you don’t have to do anything to earn being here. You just have so much potential and I--”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Peter’s voice cuts in. 

He feels numb. 

Tony’s a hero. He became Iron Man to help people. Why is he being so cruel? Why now? Does he think Peter isn’t doing a good enough job? Did Stane report back to Tony about how quickly Peter can get him off? Is this supposed to be a degrading punishment?

Tony blinks. His fork clatters on his plate but he doesn’t seem to notice. “What? Peter, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Why would you say that to me?” The last word cracks, scratchy and raw. “Why would you say that?  _ You don’t have to do anything to earn being here. _ I am earning being here, don’t-- don’t act like it’s nothing because it’s not. I’m not nothing!”

Peter takes a deep breath. He rubs his palms on his pants, staring at the ceiling and blinking away oncoming tears.

“Of course you’re not nothing, Peter. I’ve never thought that! Why--”

Peter ploughs over him. “I came to you because I thought it would be you, not someone else. I came here because I thought I could trust you. I thought, _Iron Man, he saves people for a living, he would probably be a sweet lover._ _It probably won’t hurt that much._

“And I’m so thankful I get to be here, Mr. Stark. I-- I am. But it still hurts that you gave me away. I know it was dumb but I just thought it would be you. I’m so-- fuck, I’m so dumb.” Peter gives a wet laugh. He sees Tony flinch out of the corner of his eye.

“Peter, please. What are you talking about? I didn’t give you away, you’re right here in front of me.”

Peter squeezes his eyes shut. “I know you didn’t. I don’t want to argue about semantics. It just feels like that. I know you don’t want me.”

“I want you here! I want you in ways I shouldn’t even want you but-- fuck, Peter-- it’s wrong, it’s so wrong--”

“Stop it! Stop lying to me!” Peter roars. He stands suddenly, jostling the table.

He finally looks at Tony. The man is pale. Sick. It makes Peter angrier. 

“How can you say that?” Peter’s practically screaming now. “How can you say that when you leave me with Uncle Obie?”

“Uncle…” Tony’s voice is quiet, easily drowned out.

“It’s wrong? It’s wrong for us to fuck but it’s perfectly fine for you to pass me off to your friend? I don’t want this! I wanted somewhere safe to stay, I wanted  _ you, _ and now he ties me up and fucks me and I hate every-- every-- every fucking second of it. And… and…” Peter’s voice starts to die down. He sniffles and swipes at his watering eyes. “I’m still going to do it. But you don’t get to be disgusted with me.”

Tony’s face is blank. Peter stares at him, breathing heavily and waiting for him to say something.

“JARVIS, what’s been happening while I’m not here?” Tony’s tone is even and flat.

“Mr. Stane has requested my audio and visual be turned off while he is watching Peter, sir.”

“Peter,” Tony’s eyes slide over to him. There’s a tension in the air, like a storm about to break. “Why did you call him that?”

Peter winces. His cheeks burn. “I didn’t want to,” he confesses. “He told me to.”

“Is Obadiah raping you?” The question snaps through the air. Tony’s hands are clenched into fists.

Peter bites back the immediate  _ yes _ that rises up his throat. “I want to stay here,” he says instead. “I said I’d do it, okay? I said I’d do whatever it takes to stay here. If you’re sick of me complaining, just say it.”

Peter starts to walk away but Tony grabs his wrist.

“I’m serious. This isn’t a joke, Peter.” Peter goes to shake him off, but Tony’s next words make him go rigid. “Whatever you think I said to Obadiah, I didn’t. I told him to leave you alone and keep you safe. That's it. If he's been having sex with you, it's not because I told him to."

That's when Peter knows he's even more stupid than he thought.

He wants to deny it. He wants to tell Tony he's wrong. But the pieces are slotting into place: the way he didn’t hear the conversation between Tony and Stane, Stane insisting that Tony wouldn't want to hear anything about it, JARVIS never saying anything to him about the injuries he sustained with Stane. The sick feeling in the pit of Peter’s stomach every time Stane touched him.

He’s going to throw up.

Tony growls, low and deep, “I’m going to kill him.”

Peter hears it before he sees it, the pieces of the Iron Man suits flying through the air to lock onto Tony. The gauntlets appear first, followed the chest plate, then the helmet. Right before the face plate flips down, Tony says, “JARVIS, watch Peter.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he takes off out the window.

Peter thinks about swinging after him but then he remembers, he’s going to be sick. He rushes to the bathroom. JARVIS coaches him through his panic attack and that’s where Tony finds him when he comes back.

Peter barely remembers the Iron Man suit falling away and Tony rubbing his back to soothe him. He thinks he might have whimpered  _ daddy _ as he fell asleep.

The next day on the news, he sees the headline about Obadiah Stane being dropped off at a police station, bloody and bruised with documents of evidence detailing corrupt weapons deals.

Peter tries to tiptoe around Tony but the man won’t let him. 

Tony goes out of his way to spend more time with Peter. Now they cook most of their dinners together. They spend evenings in the lab. Peter even gets to work on the Iron Man suit. He stores some of the things he learns for modifications on his own suit. 

Tony also signs Peter up for therapy sessions that he promises will remain confidential. Peter’s surprised to realize that he believes him. He tells his therapist about everything, everything except Spider-Man. It helps him process it all. His past will always be his past, he’s accepted that. The hardest thing to work through is his experience with Stane.

It shouldn’t have hit him so hard. It was such a short amount of time compared to the years he spent with Quentin. He should be used to it by now. His therapist tells him it could be because he was almost finished adjusting to his new life when it was suddenly flipped on its head. It’s about more than just sex, it’s about his relationship and trust in Tony. Tony had promised him he was safe and then it felt like Tony broke that promise.

Tony is always kind and gentle with him. Peter knows he’s trying. There’s a tension in the air between them though, something taut and tenuous. 

Peter doesn’t blame Tony for what happened, but he wonders if Tony blames him. He just wants things to be okay between them again.

That’s why he really doesn’t mean to slip when Tony praises his work in the lab and say, “Thank you, daddy.”


	3. Chapter 3

“Thank you, daddy.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Tony feels heat rise up from his belly. He tries to swallow it down.

Peter is frozen, hands stalled over the project he was working on.

“Peter--”

“I-- I didn’t mean to say that,” Peter stammers. “I’m so sorry. It just slipped out. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t mean anything?”

“I mean, it does! It does, but-- fuck, I just… I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Peter’s blushing, the flush of his cheeks creeping over the bridge of his nose.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” Tony replies, then winces as he realizes what that implies.

Peter picks up on it too. He peeks up at Tony. “Do you… do you like it?”

“Peter…” Tony sighs. 

They’ve been dancing around each other since Peter ended up on his doorstep. He didn’t want to make a move then, not while Peter’s motives were so convoluted. And where did that get him? With Peter getting hurt anyway. Maybe it’s time to go with his gut.

“I don’t think of you like a son. I think you know that by now.”

“I don’t think of you like a father,” Peter answers quickly. “At least, not only a father. That’s not why I called you… you…” 

Tony raises a hand to cup Peter’s cheek. Peter leans into him. “You can say it.”

_ “Daddy,” _Peter whispers.

“I want to kiss you. Can I kiss you, Peter?”

“Please,” Peter breathes.

And Tony does. It’s soft and sweet at first. Tony lets his hands slip to Peter’s hip, to the side of his neck to stroke at his pulse. It’s Peter who deepens their kiss, making it dirtier and dirtier until Tony has to pull back to catch his breath. Peter must take that as a signal to keep going because suddenly he’s tugging Tony’s shirt over his head.

“Woah, woah.” Tony stops him halfway. “I have-- I have scars from when I was kidnapped. I don’t know if you want to see--”

“I don’t care,” Peter huffs. He starts pulling again and Tony puts his hands over Peter’s.

“Is this where you want to do it? Because if we keep going, I’m going to fuck you right here in this lab. We can wait if you need to.”

Peter pouts. “No, daddy, I want it now. I’ve waited long enough.” A bolt of heat shoots through Tony at the words.

“Okay, baby. I can’t say no to you.”

It only takes Peter a second to get Tony’s shirt the rest of the way off, his own following close behind. Peter reaches for his belt but Tony drags him into another kiss. Tony props himself up against the table, pushing his leg between Peter’s where he can feel Peter growing hard. Peter moans into his mouth as he grinds down.

“_Oh, _oh my god,” Peter breathes. His head slips to rest on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony gets his hands on Peter’s ass, pulling him further onto the bone of his thigh. Peter’s on his tip-toes now with all his weight between his legs to stay pressed against Tony. Tony feels him shudder. He watches the shiver travel from Peter’s calves to his hollowed out collarbones.

Tony starts sucking bruises onto the exposed skin on Peter’s neck. Peter leans to give him better access. “Let me know if you need to slow down.”

“Don’t--” Peter’s nails dig into his biceps. “Don’t stop. Mr. Stark…” 

Tony bites at Peter’s shoulder, gentle enough not to hurt but hard enough to be a warning. “Not Mr. Stark, sweetie.”

“Daddy…” Peter whimpers. His hips jerk against Tony’s leg.

Tony lets his hand travel under the band of Peter’s underwear. He presses in between Peter’s cheeks to feel his hole. He adds pressure with the pad of his finger just to feel the little bit of give from Peter’s body.

“Wait, wait--”

“Shh,” Tony soothes. “I’m not going in dry, honey. I wouldn’t do that to you. Just feeling.” A flash of anger goes through him at the thought of Peter’s foster father hurting the boy like that.

“No, thats, that’s not-- shit, _ fuck--” _ Peter inhales sharply and Tony feels the twitch of his hips. Then the way his whole body freezes, and then relaxes.

The warm wetness comes a moment later, soaking through Peter’s pants and onto Tony’s leg.

Peter slumps against Tony. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean to do that.” He sounds upset. “You didn’t even cum.”

Tony kisses the top of his head. “It’s okay, baby. I had fun if you did.”

Peter looks up at him, eyes narrowed in determination. “I can go again. I just need a few minutes.”

“We don’t have to rush. We have time,” Tony tries but Peter shakes his head.

“No, no, it has to be now. Or else you’re-- nevermind.” Tony opens his mouth and Peter’s eyes widen. He changes tactics. “Please, daddy, please please, I want you so bad. I want to feel you in me. I want you to fuck me.”

Peter starts unbuckling Tony’s belt but Tony stops him. “Or else I’m what? What were you going to say?”

“It’s not important. Let me make you feel good. I’ll make sure you don’t regret it, promise.”

“I’m not going to regret it.” Tony pushes Peter back, just a step, just enough to put some distance between them. “Peter,” he says sternly.

Peter grits his teeth but Tony can see the moment he wilts and gives in. “You’re not going to want me in the morning,” Peter mutters. “You don’t trust me, I know you don’t. That’s why you’re gonna regret it tomorrow.” 

“I trust you,” Tony stresses.

Peter’s eyes dart to the side as he scowls. “Whatever. I bet you’re finally gonna get the taste of me you always wanted and then you’re going to throw me out. Why keep me around?” he spits.

Tony frowns. “You don’t mean that,” he says because he knows Peter doesn’t. He can see the pain underneath Peter’s sudden anger. The way Peter’s hands aren’t balled into fists, the way they shake instead. “If you want this, I trust you. But I want to take my time. I don’t want to be another man in your life who hurts you. But this is a two way street. Do you trust me?”

Peter hesitates and Tony knows that this is it. This is what determines whether their relationship stays the same or becomes something more. Finally, Peter bites his lip and nods.

“Baby,” Tony smiles. “I’m gonna take you apart. Let’s bring this upstairs.” Peter squeaks as Tony lifts him up and carries him to the elevator. “Penthouse, JARVIS.”

Once they reach the bedroom, Tony dumps Peter onto the bed. He shucks off his pants and Peter follows his lead. He takes Peter in, all his soft skin and flushed chest and wondering eyes. He looks stronger than before. He looks hungry. He looks perfect.

“What are you staring at? Don’t say ‘you,’ that’s too sappy,” Peter clarifies before Tony gets chance.

Tony growls and wraps a hand in Peter’s curls, biting his lip as he kisses him. “Should have known you would be a brat in the bedroom.”

“Yeah?” Peter bites back and Tony pulls away. “What are you going to do about it?”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Are you trying to get me to punish you?”

“If you want to,” Peter purrs. He seems eager and Tony thinks that maybe some rough treatment is actually something Peter enjoys. But they can upack all of that, the trauma and safewords and boundaries, another day.

“Not today, darling. Today you’re going to be sweet for me.” Tony lets his hand slip around Peter’s neck, not pressing but just resting there. A promise. “Aren’t you?”

Peter’s eyes go hazy. “Okay, daddy.”

“You can be good?”

“I can be good,” Peter swears quickly. “I can be so good for you.”

“That’s what I thought. Now stay right there.” Tony pushes Peter’s hands to his sides and watches them curl into the sheets. He slots a pillow under Peter’s hips and then leans down, hooking Peter’s legs over his shoulders.

“What are you doing-- _ oh--” _

He feels more than hears all the air rush out of Peter as he spreads Peter’s cheeks and licks a stripe over his hole. He listens for muffled pleasured sounds Peter makes as he bites and sucks and tongues. The thighs thrown over his shoulders are trembling. He stops just as he feels Peter tense.

Peter groans but doesn’t complain as Tony rises to get a better look at him. He sounds out of breath when he says, “Felt really good. No one’s ever done that to me, daddy.”

“Thought not.” Tony peppers open mouthed kisses from Peter’s knee to his hip. Peter’s cock twitches, fully hard again after Tony’s ministrations. “I wanted to be the first.”

“I’m ready for you. I want you to feel good too,” Peter pouts.

“I didn’t even open you up yet.” Tony grabs some lube from the bedside table, slicking his fingers. “Be patient.”

“I’ve been patient since I got here,” Peter grumbles.

“What was that?”

“I said--” Tony slips a finger in and Peter chokes. Tony smirks.

It doesn’t take long for Peter’s body to relax enough for Tony start stretching him. Tony’s thorough, not wanting it to hurt more than it needs to, and he can see Peter struggling to restrain himself. Precum drips from his cock steadily and there’s a sheen of sweat on his chest.

“You’re doing great, baby,” Tony praises. “So good for me. You’re almost ready for my cock, aren’t you? Ready for daddy?”

“Yes yes yes,” Peter babbles.

“Shh, I got you, honey.” Tony rubs a hand down Peter’s side. He positions himself and then pushes slowly into Peter.

There’s a furrow in Peter’s brow but he doesn’t tell Tony to stop. The heat sucks Tony in, tight and velvety around him. It’s even better than Tony imagined it would be. He finally bottoms out with a groan and Peter’s eyes flutter open.

“Expected it to hurt more…” Peter murmurs, staring at the ceiling. 

Tony’s heart clenches as he thinks of all the times he wasn’t there for Peter, all the times this sweet boy was mistreated. He wants this time, their first time, to be better than that. He wants Peter to look back on this moment without pain. He’s going to treat him right.

“Ready for me to move?”

Peter blinks and then nods.

Tony thrusts in, breath catching at how good it feels, but he forces himself to slow down as he searches for Peter’s sweet spot. He knows exactly when he drags over it because Peter jerks, eyes wide.

He does it again, deliberately this time, and Peter squeaks, “W-what is that? I’ve never-- _ ah--” _

Tony hits it again and Peter rewards him with a broken moan. “Your prostate. Little sweet spot inside of you. Easy to find if you know what you’re looking for.” And easy to ignore if you don’t care about the person beneath you. The thought makes Tony thrust again, harder.

“Never… never felt this good,” Peter says breathlessly. “I don’t think I even need to touch myself to… to… wait, Tony, slow down, I’m gonna…” 

Peter’s nails dig into his back as he curls up into him. Tony doesn’t slow down. It takes a couple more thrusts and then Peter is shivering apart underneath him, mouth open silently and cock pink at the tip as cum spurts out.

He clenches and unclenches around Tony with the aftershocks of his orgasm and that’s all it takes for Tony to follow suit behind him, spilling into Peter’s willing body.

Tony pulls out and collapses on the bed beside Peter. “Come here,” he whispers, pulling Peter in for one last kiss. “Let’s worry about cleaning up tomorrow,” he says when they break away.

Peter smiles at him as they lay next to each other, but his expression is tentative, nervous. “And you promise that tomorrow… tomorrow this will still be here? It won’t go back to the way it was before?”

“Baby, I don’t think I could if I tried.”

Peter’s smile turns warm and bright. He snuggles up to Tony, head resting on his chest. Tony puts an arm around his waist, pulling him closer. It doesn’t take long for both of them to drift off to sleep.

In the coming weeks, Peter and Tony have all the important conversations about what their relationship means, how they work together, about their pasts, about trust. Tony thought they covered everything but there’s one conversation that they missed.

One very important conversation.

Tony’s driving home when he sees it.

A small, wiry, blue and red figure scaling his tower. The movements are unmistakable, along with the color scheme. Who else would be crawling up the side of a 93-story building except Spider-Man? What Tony doesn’t know is why.

He watches as Spider-Man pries open a window on the top floor and slips inside.

First, he thinks that Spider-Man might be trying to rob him.

Then his blood runs cold as he realizes it’s Peter’s window.

“Happy, get us to the tower now!”

He thinks of the worst possibilities. 

What if Spider-Man is there to hurt Peter? An enhanced person against a regular one, Peter wouldn’t stand a chance. But why would Spider-Man do that? In all the times they’ve fought together, Tony has never gotten the impression that the vigilante would do something so definitively malicious.

So what if he’s not there to hurt Peter? What if he’s there to take Peter away? Maybe Beck somehow convinced Spider-Man that Peter ran away. (Well, he did run away but not in the petulant teenager kind of way, in the I-fear-for-my-life kind of way). What if Spider-Man thinks Tony kidnapped Peter? What is Spider-Man thinks Tony’s the one taking advantage of a defenseless child? But it’s been months since Peter ran away, why now?

The truth hits Tony like a train.

Spider-Man helps people. Spider-Man helps people who are hurt. The most logical explanation, the only one that really makes sense, is that Peter is the one who’s hurt.

It feels like his arc reactor is malfunctioning. His own breaths echo in his ears. He doesn’t hear a single word Happy says. Before the car even fully stops, Tony is already leaping out. He runs for the elevator, yelling something to JARVIS to take him to the penthouse as fast as he can, he’s not really sure what he says, all he knows is that he has to get to Peter.

The elevator shoots up, reaching the floor after far too long, and Tony races to Peter’s room. He throws the door open, heart in his throat.

“Peter! Peter, are you--”

Tony freezes.

He tries to process what he’s seeing.

Peter’s standing in the middle of his room. He doesn’t look hurt. There’s maybe a couple new bruises but no blood, no tears. Peter looks as shocked as Tony feels, eyes wide, face pale. And Peter, _ his Peter_, is half-dressed in Spider-Man’s suit.

“Surprise?” Peter manages. Tony sinks to the floor, catching his breath.

Peter is Spider-Man.

Peter Parker is Spider-Man.

Yeah, it’s all starting to make sense now.

Spider-Man isn’t seen for a couple weeks but when he finally comes back, it’s with a new suit and Iron Man at his side. Someone snaps a picture of the two of them, Iron Man with his face plate flipped up, kissing an upside down Spider-Man, mask rucked up to his nose. 

Peter thought what they had before was perfect. But now he knows better.


End file.
